


The Case of the Holmes Murder Brothers

by IwasteMytimeReadingFanfic_35



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual John Watson, Dark Sherlock, Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Murder, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD John, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but also in a good way, but in a good way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IwasteMytimeReadingFanfic_35/pseuds/IwasteMytimeReadingFanfic_35
Summary: John Watson has had enough of surprises in his life.Most of them were unplanned and somehow managed to injure him.Sherlock Holmes wasn't the exception.





	1. Doctor John H. Watson

_Waking up, Brushing my teeth, Clothes, Breakfast, Down the stairs, Say hi to the flower Lady. Open the pharmacy._

John H. Watson, ex-army doctor, the man who has seen everything and isn't about seeing anything else, the sad lonely man that never takes a lady home. 

He fumbled with the keys for a second, but his workplace was open at 8:00 am in the morning when all the girls went for a walk and the ladies came for their analgesics like every morning, some even asked if he would like some breakfast, it was nice.

_Too nice._

After he left the war it was an easy decision to have an easier life, something calm, something without gunshots and death everywhere, something without the screams and the blood and-

"Do you have Vitamins?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, yes, of course, give me a minute"

Maybe he missed it, maybe the adrenaline of war was something he needed sometimes, maybe his nightmares were more of dreams, maybe he was just too tired and should just get the vitamins for the client.

_**Bloody hell, John, what are you doing with your life.** _

"That would be two pounds, miss"

"Here you go, thanks John!"

_**Just get your shit together. You asked for this.**_

* * *

 

_7:30, nobody in the streets, and nobody that wanted to buy some last minute drugs._

John looked out the glass door at the front of his establishment to the wonderful view of the street at night, it was getting dark and he knew that at this point nobody would come in for some medicine, so he went to the back of the store and entered the little room that was there for storage, he took his coat and his cane.

His cane, his good old cane made of fake wood, the cane that he wishes he didn't need, his only "friend", one of those friends who you didn't want as much as you needed them.

The bell he had at the door suddenly jingled.

John came out, leaving his coat and his cane back there, it was late, so whoever it was, they were either in trouble or lost. And for this case, John realized, it was probably the first instance.

"Jesus..."

There was a man, being held up just by an umbrella, he was wearing a grey suit that could've been in a much better condition, stained with blood and dirt, the man was breathing harshly and there was a gash in his left shoulder messily wrapped with a blue tie that was barely blue anymore.

"Hell...Hello Doc...Doctor"

"God, what happened to you, sir?"

John went to the back again to find a foldable chair he used when his leg got tired and he helped the blood-covered man sit, he thanked him and tried to ask for a glass of water, but instead, he just coughed and gestured the refrigerator with his hands, John complied. Once half the bottle was empty the man let out a sigh and looked at John who smiled in return.

"I... I got attacked a few blocks back."

"Christ, Sir, we need to call the police! Do you remember something else?

"Oh! No, no, thanks, but calling the police won't be necessary"

John was had his phone out already but he stopped once the man tried to stand up again, John pleaded that he stayed until he was at least not bleeding anymore.

"I'll help you, just....stay here for a second, I'll need you to remove that tie and your coat."

The man did as asked while John searched for alcohol, some bandages, and some painkillers, it wasn't hospital worthy but it would get the job done.

"I can't guarantee that this won't hurt right now but it will at least stop the bleeding, please take off your shirt"

The man gave him a funny look but he did it anyway, fortunately for John, the cut wasn't as deep as it appeared by the bleeding so it wouldn't need stitching, thank god.

"Are you allergic to something sir?"

"I don't think medicine has either shrimp or peanuts in it, doctor"

John let out a soft laugh as he pressed an alcohol, soaked cotton on the cut, the man flinched slightly but he got used to it in mere seconds.

"John Watson"

"Pardon me?"

"My name, John Watson"

He said while bandaging the cut carefully to not open it again, he then turned to the man's face, there didn't seem to be any cuts there, more like bruises and a few scars that were not visible until closer inspection, he gave the man some painkillers and a wipe to clean his face.

"Michael"

"Well, mister Michael you should be good to go! I can't really do much about your dirty clothes but I can call you a cab if you'd like"

The older man looked up at John and he just smiled, John correspondingly smiled back and helped the man to his feet again, he got dressed and looked back.

"How much do I owe you? And I won't accept an 'it's free' for an answer, doctor Watson"

John was indeed going to say that, since he was his last customer he didn't feel like it was appropriate to charge him but alas he had to. He wouldn't do it full prize anyway, Michael was already in a horrible situation for John to be a pain in the arse.

"150 for everything I did"

"Please Doctor, that can't possibly be the whole price"

John smiled and shook his head, he gave him a small written bill that he gave all customers and received a very much generous payment, he went to retrieve the change but the man was already leaving.

_**What a strange note to end the day with.** _

John made sure to still call the police so they would check the streets, once he retrieved his belongings from the back, closed the pharmacy and quietly went home.

_John H. Watson didn't know much about anything, not about the local murder brothers and what they looked like, not about the black car that picked "Michael" up, not about the lady texting in the back seat, not about the severed body at the end of the street that he made the police discover._

_Not about a thing of what just happened._

**_Did you find anyone? -SH._ **

_**I think I might have found who** _

_**we** _ _**are looking for, brother -MH.** _

_**Don't call me brother -SH.** _

_He didn't bother too much to ask anyway, he was living a normal life and that was it._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it, I hope you liked it!  
> I'll be updating as much as I can, it won't be that much but I will finish this eventually.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> Edit (04/11/2018): Changed an OoC sentence.


	2. The Holmes Residence

_A car drove quietly through a forest, the big mansion rested lightly on the ground, it looked like it could fly away with one strong blow of the wind, yet, the gunshots inside weren't moving it even a little._

"Sherlock? I'm home"

"I can see that..."

The house was completely empty but Mycroft could still clearly hear the voice of his brother, it echoed, it was far away... More like, it sounded far away when in reality it was coming from the couch where a candle sat at the edge of a table, melting down onto the floor for what felt the hundredth time this week, Jesus, they had lamps on every table for this exact reason.

"I've told you to not call me that..."

"Well, dear little brother, that's what your name is, I made sure when we started this that the house was safe, can't you trust me?"

"Would you trust a murderer?"

The car outside left but Mycroft was sure he could still hear the engine in the distance, this place was quiet, he forgets every time he comes back "home", he lights up a cigarette and turns on every light around his brother that won't potentially ruin his plotting caused by excessive  _boredom_. Is fun to think about when they started this, they left their house and then just started killing people, well, Sherlock started killing people, Mycroft took care of misleading the police enough to entertain his brother for a good couple of months before he started to plot the next one.

And then the next one.

And the  _next one._

"Do yo want dinner?"

"You know the answer to that"

"Fair enough"

* * *

 

Their "home" was a fun place, that's the best way he could describe it; old, dirty, mossy and it had more rooms then they would ever need, currently most of them were full of chemicals or body parts and ice (courtesy of Sherlock Holmes) but once in a while you would find yourself in a bedroom with a suitcase packed in case they needed to run away somewhere else for the night and so far that hasn't happened in plenty of years, they still prefer to wear gloves inside the house  _just in case._

Mycroft walked through the door placing his coat on the hanger and his umbrella in the basket to then continue to the kitchen for (hopefully) a slice of some kind of treat. Instead, he found two pairs of hands and a jar labeled "Pork" which he honestly did not want to know the contents of.

"Did you eat my last slice of cake?"

Silence.

"Sherlock?"

Emptiness.

"Did you leave already?"

And so he had done, his coat and scarf disappeared from the hanger and the car was already leaving to somewhere around London, it was a different car and mostly a different driver that won't ask questions with the right sum of money, Mycroft sighed, he imagined in a few hours he would get a call or a text saying-

_**I need you to clean up, Hall St. Be quick. -SH.** _

_**On my way. -MH.** _

Or something between those lines, he asked for a car and the next thing he knew was that he was in Hall Street with a new change of clothes and latex gloves staring down at the body of a young woman and her companion laying on the ground with burn marks scattered all around their body, but their clothes still intact and in awfully good conditions, oh  _no,_ did he strip them naked before he-?

Don't ask questions, don't ask questions, don't ask questions, give him the clothes and start following instructions, just don't look directly at her face or their hands holding, don't look at their smiles. Stop. Looking. At. Them.

_Move that arm to the left, and he did, now that leg should be a little higher, and he did, could you fix his tie?, and he complied, polish his shoes carefully Michael they got some blood there, and he got out the polish and scrubbed until you couldn't see your crimes on them. Do you think they loved each other? No, they didn't, now flatten her skirt and fix his suit. And so he did. The perfume and the flowers came after, the notes came right at the end._

"What did you write this time?"

"A piano recital"

Mycroft never looked at the notes, he felt that moving and manipulating the bodies was pretty much enough for him but they surely intrigued them when he knew his brother had hidden a code in them, something mysterious, something beautifully composed, carefully planned and entirely fake so the police can have a great time running around trying to find them.

"Did you see the pictures on the papers yesterday?"

You would think is good when he gets to speak up first, most of the time it is, but when is in an alleyway in front of two dead bodies and he just  _smiles,_ that smile that Mycroft knows never means anything good is about to come out, that sweetly innocent smile, that  _sick, disgusting, hideous smile,_ that indicates he is having the time of his life....and he is.

"They looked nothing like us, did they?"

He grabbed his umbrella and called a car.

"No, absolutely not, do you know a Doctor Watson? They blamed him for the murder"

"Did they? Poor man, he was quite nice to me"

He looked at the driver, then he looked at him, then he told to take a turn to the police station.

"I told you I had found _someone"_

Sherlock simply answered by looking out the window and  _smile._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ren for beta-reading this for me!
> 
> Also to the commenter, bookmarks, and kudos!  
> They are all appreciated :)


End file.
